New Day
by ardavenport
Summary: A Jedi youngling is destined to travel a path through the fall of the Jedi, the Empire and afterward. Song-Fic. Very brief regular character appearances.


**NEW DAY**

by ardavenport

* * *

Dinny slid onto the bench behind the keyboard. The lights went up. A flutter of applause spread through the up-scale penthouse-level club. A dark blue night sky shone through the skylights above. The appreciation stilled as her fingers began their dance on the keys.

**. . .**

**Never we wondered whatever comes next**

**You used to be sure about Jedi and Sith**

**You only see black and white and grays**

**They tell me you're missing the old days**

**You don't know what you're asking for!**

**We won but you feel like you're losing the war**

**. . .**

**The colors of peace leave you wanting for more**

**You tell me your life lacks clarity**

**Confusing with too much liberty**

**You don't know what you're asking for!**

**. . .**

It was a good song. And better yet, it was popular. Dinny had finally had the right music at the right time. Of course, she was not the one who had made it popular. People with far better voices had spread it all over the New Republic. But everyone knew she was the composer, the writer, and the credits, both monetary and laudatory, came her way. Her audience forgave her 'style' of singing and her keyboard playing was natural and perfect.

It always had been.

**. . .**

**'Cause it's just a new day**

**You're finding your place**

**You don't know the way**

**Or which way to face**

**You brace for the fall**

**You say you feel lost**

**You gave it your all**

**At such a high cost**

**It's just a new day**

**The fighting is done**

**The Empire is gone**

**The galaxy won**

**It's just a new day**

**It's just a new day.**

* * *

***o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o***

* * *

Adink "Dinny" Greezmotac, her small head down, played her fingers over the keyboard. She kept the music going; it was easy. Up and down, the tunes came to her, simple and pretty. None of the other younglings in the Jedi crèche played like she did. Behind her, the adults talked among themselves. She thought it was funny that they talked as if she could not hear them. She could listen and play at the same time; it was easy.

"Hmmmmm." Master Yoda's appraisal came out like a growl. "Gift she has, yes." Leaning on his stout cane, he cast his large green eyes up at his fellow Masters, "but not to be Jedi, I fear."

"She is strong in the Force." Zwaris, the Creche Master noted, bobbing her pale blue head.

"All of our younglings are 'strong in the Force'." Master Eekot noted critically; she had brought Dinny, an abandoned infant, to the Jedi Temple. "That's why they are ours."

"She is strong. Not amazing, but strong," Zwaris conceded. She folded her slender hands and long fingers into the wide opposite sleeves of her worn tan robe.

The youngling girl seemed to be an unusual mix of heritages. Three short, stunted lekku jutted out from the back of her head, her limbs were thin with knobly joints and her skin pale orange with lines of spots just beginning to darken on her neck and the backs of her nimble hands. There were only two of those. She was a typical quadruped with two arms and two legs, two feet and two hands in the most common configuration.

"How long has she been doing this?" Eekot asked.

"Bbb-bb-bb-bb." Zwaris puffed out her cheeks, big pale blue bubbles of skin stretched out on either side of her face. "Ever since she was big enough for her hands to press down on the keys. She has always been able to reproduce any tune she hears. She expands on them. And improves on them. Now she has started composing her own. She has a genuine talent. It is most admirable."

"There's nothing wrong with a Jedi being a musician. I don't remember seeing anything against it in the Jedi Code." Eekot looked down toward the diminutive Council member. Yoda scowled back up at her. The Jedi needed Knights. Strife in the galaxy seemed to be increasing. Armed conflicts between systems, piracy, oppression. The Trade Federation was building up droid armies to 'protect' their claims to disputed space trade routes.

"To be Jedi requires total commitment." He lowered his gaze back to the girl and slowly shook his head. "Total devotion. Another allegiance, there cannot be."

"She is obedient. She minds all her teachers. She is very thoughtful for one so young. She has excellent focus. You can see it now." Zwaris gestured toward Dinny, still playing at her keyboard, the notes ranging from quick merry highs to loud lows. She slammed her fingers down on the silvery keys with no discordant notes that any of her elders could hear.

Yoda shook his head again. "For her lessons, her meditation, the lightsaber, show this much focus, does she?"

Zwaris's shoulders dropped. "No. And she has stopped playing with the other younglings. She has been spending all her free time here. And I am reluctant to discourage her. I fear it would damage her to take her away from what is clearly a calling."

Yoda let out a long sad sigh, lowering his gaze. "Choose she must. To be Jedi. Or not."

The music stopped. Yoda lifted his head. The bench at the instrument scraped on the floor as Dinny pushed it back and slid her body forward until her feet touched the floor. She walked up to Yoda. Young as she was, she was still taller them him.

"Master Yoda, what will I be if I am not a Jedi?"

"What you make yourself to be, you will be." Yoda nodded his head gravely.

Eekot provided a more practical answer than Master Yoda's more philosophical one. "There are many excellent institutions for music for you to attend on Coruscant, or other worlds if you wish. The Jedi Order will provide for your education."

"Choose you must." Yoda pointed a claw at her. "To be Jedi. Or not."

She lowered her head, but then turned, her eyes drawn to the keyboard that she never seemed to be allowed enough time to play on. She knew.

She had already chosen.

* * *

***o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o***

* * *

**Will you calm your mind and cope with peace?**

**Or give up and chase some Dark release?**

**You don't know what you're asking for!**

* * *

***o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o***

* * *

The latest message was worse than the others. This rejection wasn't even a recorded holo. It was plain yellow text on her desk computer screen, an automated response churned out by an auto-mech. Dinny glanced at the words, but they said the same thing as when she first clicked on the message. Her work was 'not what they were looking for'.

What did she have to do? Every theater, every conservatory, every holo-producer, every venue seemed to have a reason why her music wasn't right for them. She was worried that they were now talking to each other, pre-selecting her out of their hiring choices. She clicked off the offending message.

She knew she was good. Some managers even said she was good, but she was somehow not right for them. It was not her time. Whatever that meant. The only establishments that had made her an offer were the advertisers. They said she was brilliant, witty, versatile and best of all, exactly what they needed. But Dinny wanted to be a composer, a creator and performer of art for its own sake. She just hadn't figured out how to do it and still keep herself out of poverty.

The door hissed open.

"Diiiinny! Haaave yoooou heeeeard?" Sho'haaa asked, in the lead; two of her other band-mates came right behind her. "Turn on the Holo-net!" She didn't wait and dove for the desk controls. The screen lit up.

War.

The Separatists had declared themselves independent and sent fleets of droid armies to back it up. But the Republic had created its own army of clones. It was weird; nobody knew where the new Army of the Republic came from and nobody seemed to be asking, either.

"You know, the government might be looking for musicians, composers, for propaganda, I mean," Neevra speculated, his yellow eyes wide with the possibilities.

"Ooooooh, yeeeeessss," Sho'haaa agreed. "Theeeeey'd waaaant popuuulaaar stuuuuffff." He reached for his string stick and instrument and started drawing out a few test notes. But Dinny ignored her fellow artists. The images on the screen described the clone troops' first victory on Genosis, led by the Jedi after a terrible ambush. The losses were ninety percent for the Jedi.

Ninety percent.

She tapped the controls for more information.

Her band and roommates continued picking out what they thought were patriotic, but still popular tunes. Moaktri especially hated droids and put more enthusiasm into it.

Long lines of names and unsmiling faces scrolled on the screen, the honored dead of the Jedi Order. She scanned up and down the list three times but did not recognize any of them. She yearned to see a familiar name, and she felt guilty because she was searching among the dead. She had been told when she left the Temple so many years ago to never be attached to her past; Jedi looked to the future.

Now the Jedi were leading a war to defend the Republic. That felt so wrong to her, though she could not have said why.

She wiped the screen and looked up the offer and contact information for the Eser-Woopry ad agency.

* * *

***o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o***

* * *

**It's just a new day**

**You're finding your place**

**You don't know the way**

**Or which way to face**

**You brace for the fall**

**You say you feel lost**

**You gave it your all**

**At such a high cost.**

**It's just a new day**

**The fighting is done**

**The Empire is gone**

**The galaxy won**

**It's just a new day.**

**Ooooh . . . . everyday.**

* * *

***o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o***

* * *

"We'll f-f-fly to the s-s-staaaaaaars."

Gl'ook's voice wavered on the song, but the rest of the band kept playing. He recovered and went into the chorus and the back-ups joined in at the right places.

Din kept an eye on the stormtroopers prowling the back of the dingy lower-level Coruscant club as she 'Oooooh'-ed and 'Oooooom'-ed with the others, her fingers still sure on her keyboard. If it was some ordinary crime it would be police droids who might even shut the club down if it was something serious. The troopers only came for crimes against the Empire, a list that seemed to get longer every year. At least tonight all the smells circulating through the air recyclers were legal.

One of the server droids almost dropped a whole tray of drinks. The other mechs seemed to have disappeared while their customers did not call for service and stayed hunched over the drinks on their dimly lit tables as they covertly peered at the action in the back.

Myathin, their drummer, banged on into his solo with spice-addicted abandon. With equal amounts of suspicion and envy, Soosu and some of the other band members glared as he went on too long, as usual. The crowd hooted for more, egging him on. The troopers kept prowling, their white armor standing out under the flashing party lights. People dodged and slunk away when they could. Myathin had some serious spice connections; it was possible they were after him or one of his contacts.

Din broke out into her own short instrumental solo as soon as Myathin left a pause long enough for her chords to end his showing off. The drummer flattened his pointed ears and bared a fang at her. Din brought her interlude around to the finale of the song and Gl'ook took it from there with the last verse.

The troopers might have been after her, Din Altroati, once known as Adink Greezmotac, the identity she had jettisoned as soon as she saw the flaming and wrecked Jedi Temple on the public info screens when the defeat of the 'Jedi Rebellion' was announced, and when the Republic became an Empire. She knew that they would come for her, so she emptied her accounts into anonymous credits and abandoned her domicile and nearly all her possessions without regret. She hoped none of her friends would suffer for their association with her, but any attempt to contact them would only put them in danger. Anyone who was or had been associated with the Jedi was an 'Enemy of the State' and the State had become so very good at securing itself during the Clone Wars. It had lots of enemies now and an endless supply of faceless troops to go after them.

Playing on, Din riffed past the end of the song to lead into the next. If they kept playing and singing, no one would have to introduce a new song, maybe attract the attention of the stormtroopers and the two Imperial officers who joined them, but Gl'ook didn't catch up until the band cycled twice around the introduction. Din glimpsed quick white and black motions in the back corners of the club. Someone was getting arrested and hustled away. It wasn't anyone Din recognized.

She knew it was dangerous to stay on Coruscant, but she did not know where else to go. Many people left, fled to systems outside the Empire, but the Empire kept expanding, gobbling up those former sanctuaries, making their flight pointless. It felt safer to hide in familiar surroundings among the billions and billions of beings on the Empire's home world. Once, when she was young, she had tried very hard to make as big a name for herself as she could, but her talent never seemed to catch the right attention at the right time. Now her lack of notoriety saved her, made her just another musician in a second-rate band getting by on gigs in the lower levels. She had not written anything of any consequence in years; she had no inspiration. The whole world just felt gritty and harsh and wrong.

Everyone was in synch on the song as the troopers hustled their catch out the back. The noise among the tables increased noticeably as soon as the enforcers were gone. Gl'ook sang louder.

Din was safe for now. And despite the announcements about the Empire's victories against the Rebel Alliance, there were always reports of another battle, more attacks. The Alliance never seemed to be defeated. It was obvious that things were not going so well. But it was impossible to tell if the conflict was going very badly either. Din thought that might be something worth writing music for, things going badly for the Empire. But something like that was too dangerous to record. There were spies and sneakers and seekers everywhere.

Maybe someday.

* * *

***o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o***

* * *

**The time has come to learn how to live**

**With what we were fighting for**

**You might not know what we'll do with peace**

**But we'll sure live without the war**

**It's Dark no more . . . yeeeeeeaaah.**

* * *

***o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o* *o***

* * *

Dinny indulged in a little musical interlude. She usually performed with back-up, but this was solo night, a nice intimate concert for a select, appreciative crowd with no druggies or drunks.

The long celebrations after the death of the Emperor and the fall of the Empire had barely died down. Everything was new and the song had come out of Dinny with no effort at all.

The galaxy was a mess, politicians posturing, people suing for property confiscated by the Empire, refugees trying to return to homes that could not support them, but there was a future now that looked better than anything the Empire promised. And better yet, people said that the Jedi were back. Or at least one, the one who had destroyed the Emperor and his chief henchman, Darth Vader. When she wasn't practicing, writing or performing, Dinny looked for any public information about them. There wasn't much, but the Temple was being reclaimed.

**. . .**

**So now is the time for whatever comes next**

**Ooooooh, we'll all try**

**Defeated the Dark and we'll see what is left.**

**. . .**

**'Cause it's just a new day**

**You're finding your place**

**You don't know the way**

**Or which way to face.**

**You brace for the fall**

**You say you feel lost**

**You gave it your all**

**At such a high cost.**

**It's just a new day**

**You've brought in the Light.**

**So how does it feel**

**Give it a try**

**It's just a new day**

**It's just a new day.**

**. . .**

**Just a new day.**

**. . .**

**Just a new day.**

**. . .**

She let the last notes fall away. Polite but enthusiastic applause and light flickers rewarded her and she nodded to the audience. Turning back to her keyboard, she raised her hands.

The lights went down. Dinny tilted her head back as if testing which way the wind was blowing. A shadow moved on her left and the bench creaked with the weight of another person sliding next to her on her left. His face was shadowed under a hood, but he pushed it back a little, revealing blue eyes and the face of a pale Humanoid that had been proudly projected on the public announcements, on screens as big as buildings.

Her eyes flicked downward and caught the faint metallic glint of the lightsaber on his belt under the edge of his dark cloak.

She smiled and lowered her hands, slender, bony fingers resting on the edge of the keyboard.

He smiled back.

* * *

**### ### END ### ###**

* * *

**Notes:** The song, 'New Day' is filked from 'Bad Day' by Daniel Powter.

**Note: **This story was first posted on tf.n on 30-Nov-2013.

**Disclaimer: **All characters and the Star Wars universe belong to Disney and Lucasfilm; I am just playing in their sandbox.


End file.
